Wow! I can't believe the response to just one chapter. Thank you so much! To those who leave guest reviews, I can't reply personally, but I am very grateful. In appreciation of you all, here is the next chapter. Enjoy :-)

Chapter Two

D'Artagnan scrambled through his saddlebag, desperately searching for the pouch. He knew it had been there when he had saddled his horse earlier in the day. Treville had handed it to him in the stables and he had safely stowed it in the bag. The strap was secured and he had not had reason to open it since leaving the garrison. So why wasn't it there now?

He emptied everything onto the ground and rifled through it all again. There wasn't exactly a whole lot there for it to be tangled up in, but he felt his insides churning at the thought he had lost a pouch entrusted to his care. He had been so proud to finally achieve his status as a musketeer, but he knew he was still really finding his feet and in many ways, still proving himself. Treville had trusted him with a simple delivery job and he had somehow, in the space of less than an hour, totally messed it up.

He finally scooped up the assorted items from the ground and replaced them into the saddlebag. The pouch was definitely not there. He chewed on his bottom lip as he tried to mentally retrace his steps that morning. He knew, with absolute certainty he had placed the pouch in the saddlebag and secured it. So where was it?

While he was contemplating having to turn around and face Treville's wrath at his stupidity, he noticed a horse and rider approaching. His heart sunk as he quickly realised it was Athos. By the time his mentor pulled up alongside him, he could see the scowl on the older man's face.

"Missing something?"

D'Artagnan swallowed down his pride and nodded.

"I put it in … " The words dropped away as he saw Athos pull the pouch out of his own saddlebag.

"I found this sitting on the hitching rail. I thought you may need it. Since your orders this morning were to deliver it to the court." The clipped tone did not rise in volume, but it clearly displayed Athos' annoyance. It was a simple job and should not have required his time or attention.

D'Artagnan bit back the excuse that arose in his mind and knew there was nothing he could say to defend himself. Clearly, he had not put the pouch in the bag as he had thought. By the time he had taken the pouch to its intended recipient and received a dispatch in return, his mind was still trying to work out what he had done. At no point did he remember placing the pouch on the hitching rail. He had walked from Treville's office with the Captain and headed straight for his horse. The new stableboy had helped him gather his tack as he got ready to leave and he had headed directly for the palace. Trying to recount it to Athos and make sense of it was going to be difficult, but he intended to try. Maybe in the process of apologising he could figure it out. Until he got back to his horse and found that Athos had already left.

The sting of his own stupidity made the ride back to the garrison a long one. He held the pouch in his hand, refusing to put it into the saddlebag and risk misplacing it a second time. He had no wish to see that look on Athos' face again. In all the time he had been in Paris, he had been surrounded by good men, but there was only one whose approval he unconsciously sought. He frowned when he rode into the practice yard and found it almost empty. None of his friends were anywhere to be seen. He looked around and finally spotted Athos sitting off to the side, apparently reading something. He slipped off his horse and handed the reins to the new stableboy. In his distracted state of mind he couldn't recall the boy's name, but he nodded as he headed towards the stairs. At least there wouldn't be any problem in getting the return dispatch to where it belonged.

The boy steered the horse into the stable and tied the reins to the hitching rail. He smiled at the anticipation of the coin he would have in his pocket by the end of the day.

Athos had ridden back to the garrison and been relieved when Treville had sent him out on another short errand. He frowned as he recalled walking into the stables and seeing the dispatch pouch sitting in plain view. He knew d'Artagnan had seemed distracted for the last few days and he had tried to talk to the lad, but this was not acceptable. If that pouch had contained anything of a sensitive nature it could have been devastating for it to be misplaced. He had no idea what it contained, but any missive entrusted to a musketeer was important. D'Artagnan knew that and yet he had been careless enough to leave it behind. The stableboy had pointed it out to Athos and he was grateful the boy had come to him and not Treville. It could have ended a whole lot worse for him otherwise.

By the time he returned to the garrison, he wondered if d'Artagnan would have returned as well or not. Part of him wanted to forget the whole incident as youthful stupidity, but the soldier in him knew that a musketeer could not afford such a lapse. He walked over to the well and slowly pulled up a bucket of water before using the dipper to pour himself a drink. The day was warming up and he wiped a damp hand around the back of his neck. Just as he was about to put the bucket back, he heard a horse entering the courtyard and he turned to look. He half expected it to be d'Artagnan, but noted instead that it was a dispatch messenger. He turned back to what he was doing as the man would be looking for Treville and no doubt knew where his office was already. He was surprised to hear his own name being called and turned again towards the rider.

"I am Athos," he responded as he walked over towards the horse.

"Then this is for you." The man waved something towards him.

He couldn't explain the uneasy feeling that washed over him as he took the piece of parchment from the man. He flipped it open and noted the same writing as the last time.

You deserve each other. Trust is hard won and easily destroyed.

He slumped onto a nearby bench and stared at the words. He had trusted Anne with his heart and soul. She had callously walked all over both.

"I made her what she is. Her murders are on my head."

He stared at the written words on the paper as he recalled his own words. She had trusted him too and he had failed her.

He was lost in ugly memories as d'Artagnan rode through the gate and headed for Treville's office to drop off his dispatch. He did not notice the young man step out onto the landing a short time later to read the note Treville said had been delivered for him earlier. He also did not see d'Artagnan blanch as he read the contents.

You deserve each other. Neither of you is worthy of trust.

D'Artagnan felt a mixture of guilt and pain rising up from his stomach and he pushed it down. He had no right to take another man's wife and yet he could not get her out of his head. The distress on Constance's face as he walked away from her for the last time was all his fault. He hung his head and he knew the truth of the words. His father would have been ashamed of him.

Athos finally noted d'Artagnan heading down the stairs and frowned as he saw the look on his face. He shoved the note into his pocket and stood up to go and see what was going on. He was surprised as d'Artagnan stalked past him and headed out into the practice yard. Normally his young friend would have sought him out for sparring, but instead he headed for Denier.

By the time Aramis and Porthos returned to the garrison they could see a sparring match in full swing. Aramis looked across at Porthos as both men had spotted Athos leaning on a post and watching. They passed off their horses to the stableboy and wandered over to watch. D'Artagnan was lunging at Denier, using a new move that Athos had been working on with him. They all knew he had been practicing it incessantly and the hard work was paying off. Except something about it seemed off. Finally Aramis got a good look at d'Artagnan's face and instantly knew what it was. He was angry. That was something that Athos had also been drilling into him. Do not allow your emotions to rule your head. Apparently Athos' lesson had gone out the window today.

Aramis tried to look across at Athos without drawing attention and noted the tightly clenched fists while his face was the picture of calm. For some reason, Athos was angry too! Clearly they had missed something and he looked up to see Porthos eyeing him. The big man had noticed the same problem and had no clue either. He raised an eyebrow in question and Aramis just shrugged.

D'Artagnan lunged again at Denier and watched as the older man sidestepped his thrust. It wasn't the same as sparring with Athos, but Denier was an experienced soldier and was giving him a run for his money. The cheers and comments from those around them were not registering as the only thing he could hear was the pounding of his own heart. By the time the two of them called a mutual draw and pulled up swords, d'Artagnan was left feeling empty. He nodded towards Denier in acknowledgement before turning for the well. He ignored the looks from his friends as he walked past them and pulled up a bucket. He still wasn't sure what he was supposed to say to Athos and his mind was still processing through the letter.

Aramis appeared at his elbow and nodded towards the water bucket. D'Artagnan handed him the dipper and leaned against the edge of the well.

"You've clearly been practicing that move. Athos should be impressed."

D'Artagnan felt the gnawing in his chest at his friend's intended compliment. He barely managed to nod, but did not trust himself to speak. Athos was currently anything but impressed with him.